Feeling Again
by Lucinda Hindle
Summary: George was left heartbroken when Fred died and went into depression, how did he cope with it, did he ever recover? This is the story of how he comes out of his depression and the utter sadness he feels at Fred's death. This is a companion story with Heartache and Warriors of War, Moving on, though it can be easily read on its own.


**AN: I truly don't know where this story idea came from, I was just sitting on my computer waiting for the internet to reconnect when this idea struck me, so I opened MS Word and** _ **VOILA!**_

 **I guess we can safely say that it is an after the war story which is set in the same world of my other story,** _ **Warriors of War, Moving on.**_ **Only this one projects George's thoughts, the writing style is completely different, that's why I didn't want to mix this up with the main story line.**

 **This can be read perfectly without reading the main story.**

 **Warning: Depression**

 **Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

Feeling Again

George was sitting on Fred's bed in _his_ room, twirling the small seal Fred and George had invented for the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, three Ws criss-crossing each other. It was no longer _their_ room; the room became solely his when Fred left him, _forever_. Funny how they had promised to do everything together and now Fred goes and does one of the biggest thing on his own, alone.

Maybe it's just a big prank, any moment Fred would come bursting in, laughing at the stunned look on George's face. After a good, nice and long lecture, they would have recalled it for a good laugh.

But life was cruel. The hard bitter truth was there, sitting near a large yew tree in the edge of the garden at the Burrow. A dead body, no longer capable of joking.

He was buried smiling.

Funny, wasn't it? Where Fred lived the last moment of his life laughing, George would spend it grieving, he was capable of laughing, oh yes of course, but was he capable of feeling? He wasn't so sure. Of finding anything amusing? Never. Just yesterday he had walked in on Ron and Hermione in a rather compromising position, he had even felt the first peals of laughter bubbling underneath but the thought that Fred wasn't there to make fun of them with him, finishing his unfinished sentences, was enough to sober him up, turning Ron and Hermione's impossibly red faces to ones of concern.

It had been almost two months since the Battle of Hogwarts. People said that time will heal, George couldn't wait for time to heal, it was just too slow. People said there is a reason but George couldn't see what was it or why couldn't he have gone with Fred.

For the first week after the Battle, George had been in a state of fierce denial. Pausing in sentences, jokes and suggestions, waiting for Fred to finish them. He never did.

When they had lowered Fred's body into the grave, he hadn't broken down, he had felt that the part of himself that could feel had been buried with him, leaving a hollow in his chest. Leaving him unable to cry or grieve. Maybe he was in shock, maybe he had gone insane but he still couldn't believe that Fred didn't exist anymore, would never speak anymore, that George could never joke about being Fred anymore.

He had gone to Diagon Alley in hopes of finding Fred in there shop, ready to start business. He found no one there; it was at that moment that all his hope of ever speaking with Fred had shattered. Shattered like the glass windows of their- no, _his_ shop had, after a long forgotten Death Eater attack. It had hit him so hard, like a flood, that he had been knocked down to his knees, the broken glass sinking and cutting into his legs painfully, like the painful truth sinking into his heart. He hadn't felt any of it. He hadn't cried then too, either, for the part of him that could feel was still buried deep into the ground with Fred.

The feeling of that hollowness and coldness had been so severe that he hadn't even felt it when there had been a Dementor attack. Though he had tried to produce a patronus for his family's sake, all the happy memories had included Fred and Fred had bought with it more of the coldness. Not sadness, but utter and bitter coldness and hollowness, rendering him unable to produce a patronus about which he had so openly boasted about in the DA.

George didn't know how Fred had managed to make him feel dead and alive both at once. At this moment life hurt a lot more than death. Time hadn't changed anything, George still longed for Fred's voice, however alike their voices were, he still missed Fred's sense of humour, even if it was on the same level as George's, he still missed Fred's smile, which will never grace George's face again.

George was sick of not crying, tired of trying and even though he had started smiling, inside he was dying.

It was hard to forget Fred, after all, how could he forget someone who had given him so much to remember?

He had often wondered what would have Fred said now, if he was given a chance to speak? What would his last words have been?

Then, one day, George was sitting on Fred's bed in _his_ room, twirling the small seal Fred and George had invented for the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, three W's criss-crossing each other, it hit him. The answer. It hit him like the same flood in the shop. But this time he did feel something, a deep utter sadness accompanied by, however absurd it may sound, another deep sense of contentment. That day he cried, cried for the first time for Fred, all the while smiling, a real smile. Crying was a relief, a way of speaking how broken his heart truly was.

There was a pain in his chest, something that wasn't there before, the gaping hole had now turned into a gaping wound and he knew somehow that it was better. The feeling of sadness was better than no feeling at all, and he knew that the smile he had thought had left the world forever hadn't really left.

Somewhere, the deep corners of his heart snickered at the position he had found Ron and Hermione in, already thinking up mickeys out of them.

Fred watched this, smiling and slowly departed, knowing that the healing of his brother had started.

The answer had come with another line, one which he vaguely remembered Harry telling him, trying to bring him out of his shell. It fit perfectly with what he knew Fred would have said. Harry had said that death is the next great adventure, something that would have suited Fred wholly with what he would have said:

 _Mischief Managed._

 **AN: Please tell me how did you find this?**

 **Those who cried must review, those who didn't…..must review as well.**

 **As about my other story _Warriors of War_ , _Moving on_ I will update it as soon as possible, the thing is my internet connection got busted for the last several days and I didn't get time to update.**


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